Sameer was a good looking man in his early thirties with a disdainful expression on his face. I waved to him as I approached their apartment.
"Rick," I said. "I'm your neighbor over there," pointing towards my apartment.
"Hey Rick, I'm Sameer"
"Are you looking for something?"
"Not something. I'm looking for my wife. She called me because she had got herself locked out, but I can't find her anywhere"
"Would that be the lady with a green stroller?"
"Yeah, how do you know her?"
"I don't. But I think I saw her in the gardens sometime back when I was jogging. Not too many Indians in this complex, so I guessed that must be her. I'm going in that direction, to the estate office. I can let her know, if I see her"
"No I'll come," he said, joining me.
As we walked, Jane ran past her in her
tiny
shorts (which exposed much of her long, shapely legs), and a sports bra. She waved to me. Yeah, Jane and I had fucked once, but it wasn't much fun - for either, I suspect. We didn't click sexually. But I could see that Sameer's eyes followed her, checking out her behind with a wistful look.
"Isn't she something?" I asked.
"Sorry?" he tried to play dumb.
"That's Jane," I said. "She's quite a lay." I lied. "And I know for a fact that she has a thing for married men," I said with a wink.
He grinned. "No thanks. I'm happy with what I've got."
"Ah yes. Of course, given what you have got!"
"What do you mean?" he retorted.
Ah. Jealous husband who doesn't fuck his wife
, I thought to myself.
"Well, you have a beautiful wife," I said, "way more beautiful than our Jane there"
Just then his phone rang, and he started speaking agitatedly in his mother tongue (I guess!).
"She's reached home," he said. "I gotta go. It was nice meeting you Rick"
"Same here. We should get a beer sometime!" I said as he headed back.
***
I didn't run into Meena for the rest of the week. Early Saturday morning, I saw them loading their car with bags, as I stepped out onto my balcony, and I didn't see her for the rest of the weekend either. Truth be told, I was missing her (sure I was getting action, but still). And our first encounter was kind of rushed. So on Monday, after Sameer had left for work, I knocked on her door.
After some delay, when it looked like there was no one at home, Meena opened the door, dressed in the traditional Indian dress - a long-sleeved top and loose-fitting bottoms (what, I have learned from another Indian friend, is called a
punjabi dress
. Her hair freshly washed (god that's always so sexy), the cotton top was damp in places - she had probably put it on without drying herself completely, in a rush - and it was sticking to her body, accentuating her full breasts, her impressions of her bra straps pronounced at places. She looked so deliciously sexy! I wanted to fuck her right there.
"Oh, Rick, it's you!" she said, trying to put on a poker face. "Why are you here?"
"Wow, quite a welcome," I said, stepping inside the tidy looking apartment, and she had to step back. "I thought you would be happy to see me," I added with a look of mock displeasure.
"Rick, that was a mistake. And I have no intention of repeating it," she said with a steely voice.
"Looks like someone's getting some action, after all," I said with a smile.
"You're such an asshole!" she said, her voice icy cold.
"Am I right, or am I right?" I asked. "Hey, listen. I'm really glad that things have worked out between the two of you."
She softened a bit, smiling now in a conspiratorial way.
"Come on, you can tell me," I said, "we've done worse than talk"
"Yes. The same night, we made love after a long time - and it was like before"
"You mean,
that
night?"
"Yes ..."
I let out a whistle. "Excellent! So you're all set, then. But you could still visit me anytime. We can talk about books," I said, handing her the Zadie Smith book she had shown interest in.
"Oh, I can't keep it," she said. "What if Sameer asks where it came from."